*Gontran de Linars walks into the room with his squire in tow. He stops and surveys the gathering, thumb in belt.*
(This room could fit many more people. Why is the food over there and not over here? Why is the...never mind. A prince can throw a party however he likes)
"Ah; wonderful weapons. What is this? Some clumsy fool spilled wine on one of the spears."
*pulls out a fine linen cloth and removes the 'wine'*
"There. Much better."
*turns to his squire*
"A spearman must take good care of his shaft."
*as he turns back, the squire rolls his eyes*
"I imagine you can impale a few things with this!"
*squire...*
*Surveying the room again he catches the Prince's eye*
![]()
Bookmarks